Please Don't Make Me Break That Promise
by DramaQueen50
Summary: "Please," He gasped in a rough, ragged voice. "Please, darling, please don't make me break that promise. If you can do one last thing for me, please wake up 'Mione. Please..." The blonde gasped out as a single, crystalline tear fell down his cheek, carving a path of despair. It was followed by another.


**AN: I wrote this about four months ago, but forgot about it until last night, when I found the note on my phone. The stupid thing wouldn't leave me alone, so I edited this one-shot for all of you! I hope you enjoyed it—even if you might get a little teary.**

**DramaQueen50**

**P.S. No I have not abandoned **_**Damaged Goods**_**—I was writing Chapter Nine last night as well as this! Hopefully it will be up soon! :D**

_**Please Don't Make Me Break That Promise**_

A deep sigh resonated in the otherwise silent sitting room as an attractive, middle aged blonde stared into the flickering flames of a dying fire. His face was that of a pensive gaze, his startling eyes in a shocking shade of pure silver as they shined by the light of the fire. One pale, elegant hand gently clenched a crystal decanter. It was filled to the brim with a potent, deep amber liquid. Upon the man's lap sat an ebony colored book trimmed in silver. In the middle of the cover sat a picture of a family; five children ages ranging from newborn to early twenties, and two adults— himself and one other. Sighing once more, the blonde fondly stroked the cover of the book as he took a languid swig from his drink. For a moment, all was still save for the movement in the picture, and then the man opened the book. His eyes glistened suspiciously as he looked at the hundreds of pictures within the priceless album. 

Children laughing, babies playing, Christmas memories and Easter Sundays; all of his family's memories right there for him to watch. It was nights like these that Draco Malfoy hated the most. When he had too much time lying on his elegant palms—when he could simply look back on the months and years before _it_ happened. 

Anther sigh, another swig, another page. 

His family had been torn apart ten years ago on the day his youngest daughter had been born. His wife had closed her eyes just minutes after Serena had taken her first breath. She had barely had the strength to hold their youngest daughter for the family picture, before she fell into a coma. Draco could still remember the words she had whispered in his ear. _"I will always love you, never doubt that. Be strong for me, my dragon, and raise our children to be the best they can."_ She had kissed his cheek and closed her eyes as she slipped under the blanket of unconsciousness. Looking back, the Malfoy Lord knew he should have been more worried about his wife. She was a very smart witch, and her words spoke of finality—he should have seen the tragedy on the horizon.

But he didn't—he was blind to everything right in front of him.

A few days passed. 

Then a week. 

Two. 

Three. 

One month. 

Two months. 

Three. 

Before he knew it, Draco had woken up on the yearly anniversary of his wife's coma. He hadn't cried, he had simply risen from bed and helped the house elves prepare the manor for Serena's birthday. 

They party had been beautiful, gorgeous and worthy of a Malfoy. Serena had been all smiles and laughter the entire day, her brilliant, platinum blonde hair bouncing as she was passed from friend to friend. 

The same could not be said for the rest of the children, however. Scorpius had out up a valiant effort, but he could barely muster a solid smirk, let alone a smile. Eventually the young teen had locked himself in his room. Draco had heard his son crying later that evening, heart wrenching sobs ringing in the silent manor as the weary father walked towards his son's room. He had held Scorpius all night that day, and simply rocked him while his eldest son sobbed for his mother. 

Another year passed.

And another. 

Three. 

Four. 

Five. 

Before he knew it, his beautiful wife had been in a coma for ten years. Scorpius had moved to Romania to work on Vampire-Wizard relations, and the twins had joined the Weasley twins Fred and George at their WWW branch in France. Damian had started an orphanage for abandoned magical children, and it was nearly time for Serena to head to Hogwarts. 

She had missed so much. 

Draco sighed once more, looking up at the sold marble fireplace. He hasn't cried once in ten years. He would visit her every night to kiss her porcelain cheek, to hold her petite hand while he ran his fingers through her once wild, and untamable bushy curls. But he never shed a single tear. 

Maybe tonight he would. 

Maybe he would finally let her go.

Maybe tonight he would accept that his sweet, kind, caring wife would never see their daughter board the train to Hogwarts. Maybe tonight he would touch her cheek and whisper his last goodnight. Maybe he would take the stairs to the kitchens, and instruct the elves to cease the machines keeping her alive. Maybe tonight, Draco Malfoy would sit next his wife's bed, and kiss her cheek as he watched her breathe her last breath.

And maybe tonight, Draco Malfoy would finally shed the tears he had bottled up. 

He probably wouldn't. He hadn't cried in ten years; why would he start now?

Draco downed the rest of his drink, gently placing the decanter on the coffee table in front of him. Rising from his chair, the aged blonde stood and made his way from the sitting room. The dying embers of the fire cast shadows on the aristocrat's back as he strode down the hall and up the staircase.

The man stopped in front of a single wooden door, his hand resting on the gold knob as he clenched the photo album in his right arm. Memories flashed across his eyes.

Her smile as she held Janessa's and Jamie's hands.

Her hair as it danced with the wind, the mocha locks twisting into untamable locks once more.

The way her lips quirked as she read a new book by the firelight.

The way she would twist her fingers when she was nervous, or how she would bat that _one_ strand of hair out of her face when she studied.

How she would do _anything _for her friends and family.

How she would have laughed when Scorpius got himself stuck in a tree. How she would have held Damian as he cried over his best friend's death. How she would have grinned and giggled like a schoolgirl on their anniversary. How her eyes would have lit up on Serena's first birthday. The way her cheeks would grow red as she would have scolded the twins for blowing up their bedroom. How she would have held all of them close when they returned for Christmas.

Draco took a shaky breath as he twisted the golden knob and stepped into the dark room.

She was lying on the bed, in the same position as the night before, and the night before that. Her eyes were closed, and her porcelain skin was an almost unhealthy shade of white. Her hair was dull, and had lost that vibrant touch of life it had once held. Her wrists were thin and delicate, and her limbs were so weak, but to Draco, she was still beautiful.

He sat in the sleek armchair by her bedside, laying the album in his lap as he picked up her frail hand. His thumb stroked the soft skin of her wrist as he stared at her with sorrow filled eyes. For several, agonizingly long moments, the room was silent, and then Draco cleared his throat.

"Scorpius got the vampire coven in Russia to sign a treaty with the Minister this week. The covens have declared peace with the Russian ministry and have been given the same rights as wizards thanks to our oldest." The pride was evident in the blonde's voice as he smiled at his wife. "Damian adopted a third child from his orphanage today. He said the boy reminded him too much of Adrian; guess he couldn't let his friend's memories be tarnished by letting this kid grow up in an orphanage. You would be proud of him." Draco was sure in his statement as he brushed several stray hairs out of his wife's face.

"The twins are helping those Weasley boys set up another branch of WWW in Russia—I keep waiting for a letter asking permission for them to wed our girls. Scorpius is spreading the word of their new branch throughout the covens for them. Despite the distance between them all, our children still managed to stay close to one another." A soft smile played on the aristocrat's lips as he lost himself in thought and silence descended once more. Finally, when the blonde could no longer take the grief in the air, Draco broke the quiet.

"Today—"He paused for a moment to collect himself, as he felt a suspicious burning at the back of his eyes. "Today, Serena asked me if she would have a mummy to say goodbye to at the train station. She said all the other kids have mummies _and_ daddies, but she didn't have a mummy." The lord paused again as a lump filled his throat, blocking the words he desperately wanted to say. "She—she asked me why she didn't have a mummy, and I didn't know what to say." Draco's chest clenched as he thought of his angel's innocently confused expression. "I didn't know how to tell my little angel that her mummy was asleep, and wouldn't wakeup. I didn't know how to tell Serena, that her mummy had gone into a coma after she was born. I didn't know how to tell her that her mummy couldn't go to the station when she went to Hogwarts. I didn't know how." The blonde was barely whispering by the end of his speech, his hand clenched around his wife's as his heart screamed in sorrow.

"I didn't know how, so I promised our daughter her mummy would be there." The air in the room seemed to grow heavier as Draco leaned forward and rested his forehead on his wife's.

"Please," He gasped in a rough, ragged voice. "Please, darling, please don't make me break that promise. If you can do one last thing for me, please wake up 'Mione. Please..." The blonde gasped out as a single, crystalline tear fell down his cheek, carving a path of despair. It was followed by another.

And another.

And another.

And more fell as the Lord of the House of Malfoy cried for his wife for the first time in ten years.

"Please…"


End file.
